


Where The Heart Is

by yormgen



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, akira goes home, polythieves because you know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-22 07:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11375115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yormgen/pseuds/yormgen
Summary: He predicted the tightness in his throat as they took turns crowding around him, leaving wet kisses on his cheeks. He watched Makoto pull out of the driveway, and seeing everyone else stuff themselves half out the windows to wave and reach for him and Morgana nearly broke his heart.





	1. You Can't Go Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Transparently, a lot of this is a projection of my experiences reconciling with my own mother through things like stigma, divorce, time away, neglect, so on, as a two-way street. I've liked the vast majority of the fandom's dissertations on how Akira's parents could be so distant for a year, and the various ways humans can fail to be there for each other when they should have. I'm fascinated by narratives about imperfect parents and children figuring it out, too. Thanks for reading.

 

 

When Akira got home, the family car wasn't in the driveway.

 

He considered the chances that they had forgotten today was the day. Sojiro had been keeping in contact with Akira's family more so than he had himself, but the emotional climate had been awkward when he left for Tokyo. Somehow, throughout the year, he could never find very much to say to them, no reasons to reach out. He hadn't sent a text reminder, so if they had forgotten he decided not to blame them too much.

 

Parting from his friends had been hard. He never had the misconception that it wouldn't be, he predicted the tightness in his throat as they took turns crowding around him, leaving wet kisses on his cheeks. He watched Makoto pull out of the driveway, and seeing everyone else stuff themselves half out the windows to wave and reach for him and Morgana nearly broke his heart. He knew it wouldn't be long, but he already missed them.

 

He shifted about at the front door, not sure where he'd put his old house key. It had long since been replaced with the key to Leblanc in his wallet. Morgana, so clever and good at being a thief, found a spare under the doormat and Akira quietly let himself in.

 

He immediately came face to face with his mother, her hand half extended as though she were moments from opening the door herself. She looked at him with wide eyes and lips parted, and he was struck by how much thinner she looked since he'd last seen her, how much smaller she seemed.

 

"I didn't want to interrupt you with your friends," she spoke first, and it sounded wrong, like it wasn't the first thing she'd wanted to say after so much time.

 

It hadn't been the first thing he'd hoped to hear, either. Without thinking, he replied, "You could have come to meet them," with an edge he didn't intend, that he'd never taken with her before. 

 

To his surprise, her eyes softened. "I will, next time."

 

 

Akira quickly learned two things when he settled into his childhood living room with his mother. 

 

The first he wasn't as surprised about as he thought he should be; his parents were separating and his dad had moved out shortly after Akira had been transferred. That explained where the car had gone. 

 

Akira's mom, thankfully, wasn't determined to lie to him about the reasons, Akira knew it had to do with him. His parents had been arguing about his sentence throughout the process of his trial, whether or not they believed him, whether or not it mattered if he was telling the truth.

 

He'd spent too much of that time in shock to remember exactly how his mother had felt then, too afraid and angry to focus on it as anything but overwhelming white noise. He could remember when he was growing up that it wasn't the only thing they'd ever argued about, but he understood how it could have been their tipping point.

 

"I couldn't take it," his mother told him quietly. "The way he acted like what the neighbors knew mattered more than the police taking you away from us."

 

Akira swallowed hard and focused on the second thing he'd learned since getting home. 

 

His mother had quickly taken Morgana onto her lap and doted on him while she spoke. Akira watched as her nails scratched down Morgana's back and under his chin, as though she could direct all of the nervous energy between the two of them straight through Morgana, and convert it to purring. In a bizarre way, it kind of worked.

 

Akira cleared his throat and kept his tone light. "I didn't know you liked cats. You never let me have a pet, when I was a kid."

 

His mother gave him the smallest of smiles, the first he'd seen from her in well over a year. "Your  _father_  wouldn't let us have pets. I  _love_  cats."

 

 

 

 **Futaba** : hey Akira guess what

 

 **Akira** : You made it back home already?

 

 **Futaba** : no we just love and miss you

 

 

 

Morgana looked around the bedroom Akira grew up in from the tidily made bed, sheets stiff with disuse. The room didn't seem lived in, beyond the necessities taken from Akira's transfer. No posters on the walls, no memorabilia to tell of his upbringing. Morgana had grown fond of the tacky knick-knacks Akira collected, this empty room didn't suit him. 

 

"It's not a dump like the attic was," Morgana said without any disdain to Akira, who sat on the floor sorting his things. He had so many more boxes now then he'd first left with. "But between the cafe and Haru's house, I forgot that bedrooms were supposed to be tiny."

 

Akira huffed and took his phone again to check on his friends. "You've seen Futaba's bedroom tons of times."

 

"But I didn't have to live there!"

 

"Well, your highness, I'm sorry it's not to your extravagant tastes," Akira grinned at Morgana's indignant tail flick and started putting away the few clothes he had. "Besides, you'll have more reign of the house than you did the cafe."

 

Morgana looked at the closed bedroom door, thoughtful. "Your mom seems nice."

 

It was a little non-sequitur, but Akira could roll with it. "Yeah, seems so."

 

Akira watched Morgana hop off of the bed to join him on the floor. "You look a lot like her."

 

"Yeah?" Akira ran a hand through his curls, which might have been most pointedly what Morgana had meant. "I guess I probably got my good looks from her."

 

 

Akira had still been on the ground, carefully adhering a few of the star stickers Yusuke had given him to his bed frame when the faint knock on his bedroom door startled him. He hadn't had a door to be knocked on in ages.

 

His mother pushed it open slowly and waited until he nodded to enter. She regarded Morgana, napping on a dresser, before joining Akira on the floor. "These are cute," she pointed to the stars, speaking quietly. "Where did you get them?"

 

"A planetarium in Tokyo, a friend bought them for me," Akira spent a moment surprised he wasn't being scolded for tacking something to the furniture, but when he thought about it, it would've been his father's type of scolding.

 

His mother smiled and tucked her legs beneath her, content to sit for a while. "Tell me about Tokyo."

 

He hadn't realized how many memories he'd made in one year away. It took more than an hour for him to make a dent in his experiences: to describe Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya's homey side streets, how anxiety inducing the subway station had been, how much he liked the fried bread he could buy from Shujin. He told her about Inokashira Park, the boat rides, the arcades in Akihabara. He told her about the beach trip, and about the night he'd gone to Destiny World with everyone.

 

By the time Akira lost steam, his mother's eyes were wet. "So many names," his mother's laugh was quiet, but sounded thick in her throat. "You made so many friends there."

 

"I did," Akira smiled, but it felt weak when he considered how far away all of those people were from him. He hadn't been anywhere near as close to the friends he had before moving to Tokyo, so he wasn't prepared to cope with the distance like he figured he would be. "Don't sound so surprised. I'm very charming for a convict."

 

His mother didn't seem to hear the mocking sound Morgana made, jumping off of the dresser. She turned to face Akira and pressed her palm to his cheek gently, and he realized it was the first time she'd touched him since he returned. 

 

Akira remembered her doing this when he was very young and upset over one of the various things that could upset a child. It had been grounding when he was small, and she'd felt bigger and stronger than any of his childish problems. He'd wished she had held his cheek like this the morning he'd left for Tokyo, more afraid than he'd ever been. Now he had to look down to meet her eye, and he felt overwhelmed by how small she still made him feel.

 

"Oh, my baby boy," she whispered. She moved close to wrap her arms around his neck, holding him close. 

 

He couldn't remember the last time she hugged him.

 

"My baby," she said again, not bothered that he hadn't moved. "I'm so sorry."

 

Akira felt Morgana press against his side as he lifted his arms to grip his mother's shirt.

 

 

 

 **Akira** : So, I just cried in front of Morgana and I'm embarrassed and have to die.

 

 **Ryuji** : dude what happened??

 

 **Akira** : My mom hugged me and I literally broke down.

 

 **Akira** : I think I worried Morgana, so he came to lean on me and purred until I stopped

 

 **Akira** : and now I can't make eye contact with my cat, so I gotta die.

 

 **Ann** : oh, Akira... ): Makoto, can we drive back to him right now?

 

 **Makoto** : Yes.

 

 **Akira** : NO DONT YOU JUST GOT BACK

 

 **Ryuji** : we really do miss you man

 

 

 

Akira set his phone aside quickly and rubbed his eyes. 

 

Morgana shifted, but didn't move from his stubborn place on Akira's lap. "Are you feeling okay?"

 

"Yeah," he managed, even though he wasn't certain it was an honest answer. "But my legs are going numb."

 

Morgana huffed, and stayed right where he was.

 

 

 

In the morning, he made coffee with the grinds Sojiro had snuck into his things. 

 

He'd never really touched anything in the kitchen before he left and his mother seemed charmed by the shift. "Sakura-san taught you how to make coffee? He told me he'd been treating you like a part-timer."

 

"He taught me how to cook, too," Akira fumbled with the paper filters for a moment. "Well, he taught me how to make curry."

 

He set a full mug in front of his mother, just like he would have for a customer at the cafe. Morgana sat on a chair near her, content to enjoy the smell, like always.

 

"Was it nice, living there?" She asked him, sounding almost apprehensive. She took a sip from the mug and gasped, "Oh, this is delicious."

 

Akira gave her a small smile. "It was kind of rough at first," he said honestly. "But yeah, I liked it there. A lot." He paused to snap a photo of his own cup and sent it Sojiro, thanking him for the Colombian. Boss knew it was his favorite.

 

Morgana stared at Akira challengingly when he moved to sit next to his mother. Eventually, Akira settled onto the edge of the chair, Morgana sprawled comfortably behind him. "It was less lonely after I found Morgana. Sojiro liked him way better than me for the longest time."

 

"He still likes me best," Morgana assured Akira as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

 

 

 **Boss** : Anytime, kid. Futaba said last night's curry wasn't as good as yours, so I guess you'll have to visit pretty soon.

 

 

 

Morgana didn't go with him to his first day back to class. When Akira had woken up and gotten ready to leave, he'd found Morgana in his mother's arms while she halfheartedly wiped the kitchen counters. She was singing to Morgana softly in English, while he rested against her chest like a well-behaved baby. He made no move to join Akira.

 

"Have a good day. Take it slow," his mother hummed, and Morgana nuzzled against her, ignoring him.

 

 _Traitor_ , Akira thought without too much malice, snapping a quick photo. It was strange to realize he'd rather stay with his mother than go to school, too.

 

 

 

School happened.

 

He reintroduced himself to a class of kids he was vaguely sure already knew him, blandly asked them to take care of him for one more year. Unlike Shujin, there weren't whispers or glares, but an eerie silence. When he chanced a glance around the room, most of the students were looking at him as though he were a ghost from their past life. He may as well have been.

 

He'd been seated in the center of the room, near the front, and noted that these desks didn't have a storage space. Morgana wouldn't be able to hide here very well. He wondered how much he'd taken Morgana's company at school for granted.

 

His phone buzzing in his pocket was a comfort. 

 

 

 **Yusuke** : Akira, how are your classes?

 

 **Yusuke** : I realized I won't be able to ask about your day while people watching after class, so I thought I would ask here.

 

 **Futaba** : wtf that's gay... now I miss him again...

 

 

Akira bit his tongue to keep from smiling.

 

 

 **Akira** : It's fine. Morgana ditched me this morning, so I'm mostly bored.

 

 **Haru** : He ditched you?

 

_Akira Kurusu has sent an image_

 

 **Akira** : Coming with me wasn't as enticing as this, I suppose.

 

 **Haru** : Oh, how sweet!

 

 **Ryuji** : what the FUCK your mom is hot

 

 **Akira** : So, I'm gonna block Ryuji from the chat now.

 

 **Ann** : yeah, go ahead.

 

 **Ryuji** : WAIT NO i mean

 

 **Ryuji** : you look a lot like her is all

 

 **Futaba** : gay. but nice save.

 

 

The day passed in a haze that Akira could barely remember. He didn't linger after the final bell.

 

 

 

Morgana had the courtesy to be sorry for ditching him, at least. He climbed onto Akira's shoulder as soon as he was through the door, like it was where he belonged. They didn't often go so many hours without one another anymore.

 

"When did my mother leave?" Akira moved through the kitchen, momentarily lost, before drifting towards the coffeemaker.

 

"Around noon, to go to the salon."

 

Akira blinked. "She told you where she works?" The image of his mother talking about her day to a cat was still too incredibly surreal, even if it was an extremely intelligent cat.

 

"She told me all kinds of things this morning," Morgana purred.

 

Akira smiled despite himself. "All kinds of things? What does that mean?"

 

Morgana rested his head against his paws, daintily crossed over Akira's shoulder. "She told me about you, when you were a kid. I'd never even considered what you'd be like younger."

 

"What does that mean!" Akira repeated, exasperated but laughing nonetheless.

 

Morgana closed his eyes and didn't answer. "You never once talked about your family when you lived at Leblanc."

 

Akira watched the coffeemaker come to life and start to brew. "There wasn't much to talk about," he said lightly, getting himself a clean mug.

 

"Did you miss them?" Morgana tried, carefully watching Akira's face. "Were you close?"

 

"Does it seem that way?"

 

Morgana shifted on his shoulder, impatient.

 

Akira held back a sigh, and reached up to scratch Morgana between the ears. "No, not really. To either question."

 

"Why not?" Morgana's voice was soft, but Akira could accept that he wasn't getting out of the discussion.

 

"Think about it," Akira watched the coffee pot steam over. "They sent me away to live with someone they barely knew, just to get my record as far away from them as they could. Does that sound like a close family?"

 

Morgana seemed to be thinking about it. Akira poured his coffee and sat, letting Morgana sit on the table near him. 

 

He took his time explaining his father's business, and the issues that arose when he travelled to America for work and brought back a pregnant woman who obviously wasn't entirely Japanese. Explaining xenophobia and racism to a cat who insisted that humans mostly look the same was about as complicated as Akira expected it to be.

 

Morgana quickly got distracted when Akira tried to use Ann as an example,  _oh, how he missed Lady Ann_ , and Akira encouraged it, content to talk about something other than his family tensions. 

 

Unfortunately, Morgana wasn't single-minded. "So, what you're saying is... your family's been distant ever since your parents married?"

 

Akira nodded. "My parents were a lot more focused on not standing out then they were about being close knit."

 

Morgana considered it. "But... your mom seems genuinely glad to have you around."

 

Akira didn't deny that, and didn't admit that it made him feel warm in a way he never thought he would about either of his parents. "She probably is, now that she's not under my father's thumb," he said blankly. "But that's kind of new, too. She's asked me about my feelings more in the past two days than she has in ten years."

 

"A year is a long time to think about what matters, you know."

 

Oh, Akira knew. He sipped his coffee, Sojiro's coffee, and felt some tension leave his shoulders. He gave Morgana a genuine grin. "I bet she doesn't even know my favorite color."

 

" _Please_ ," Morgana scoffed. "Anyone that's met you can tell you like red and black. I bet your mom's not as blind as you are without those glasses."

 

Akira blinked, almost startled by the certainty of Morgana's response to a question he didn't actually have an answer planned for. He took another sip of his coffee to hide a smile.

 

 

 

 **Makoto** : Akira, I know you're still settling, but I thought it would be nice to mention in advance,

 

 **Makoto** : How do you feel about me picking you up for Golden Week?

 

 **Haru** : Mako-chan and I will have a break from classes, and thought it would be nice to have us all together for a moment!

 

 **Makoto** : Please don't feel pressured...

 

 **Akira** : Sorry, didn't mean to go so long without responding. I would really, really love that.

 

 **Makoto** : Oh, good! Good.

 

 **Ryuji** : YES

 

 **Futaba** : YES!!!

 

 

 

Sensibly, Akira had known this conversation was coming. He didn't want to have it, being avoidant about his feelings and thoughts was one of his most proficient hobbies. But, rationally, it was inevitable.

 

His mother leaned into the doorframe, arms wrapped around herself protectively, like he'd seen her do in the lead up to past fights with his father. Akira didn't like the parallel.

 

"I don't know what you want me to say," Akira tried to look at her, but couldn't focus and ended up staring blankly at the wall near her. She couldn't quite look at him either.

 

She stiffened, and he felt himself do the same. "What I want," she said each word shortly, "is to know why I had to go a year without hearing your voice, even once. I'm your  _mother_."

 

Akira thought about what Sojiro had said to him the day he'd moved into Leblanc, about his parents getting rid of him for their own peace. Sojiro had taken it back in time, apologized for it, but it didn't make the sentiment ring less true to Akira. Being associated with him had become a pain in the ass to his parents, too big an issue to keep their eyes on anymore.

 

"Neither of you even tried to call for the first two months that I lived there," Akira retorted. "You never even cared to know if I'd gotten there safe."

 

Akira's mother shook from her spot. "We were... Of  _course_  I cared! What could I have possibly..." She cut herself off, blinking rapidly. "Sakura-san told me when you got there. I spoke to him every week about how you were."

 

Akira bit into his tongue hard to force his face to stay neutral. He remembered those months before they'd rescued Futaba from her tomb, how Sojiro hadn't managed more than a handful of meaningful conversations, let alone any real effort to keep track of him. He couldn't fathom what of any value Sojiro could have possibly had to update his family on weekly.

 

"I see," he dismissed.

 

His mother took a step towards him. "When I tried to call, you never answered... You never even replied to my text messages."

 

"There wasn't much to say."

 

"There wasn't much to..." She shook her head, bewildered. "There was nothing to say about the accidents happening around Shujin? About the people you were meeting?"

 

"Oh,  _come on_." Akira snapped, and could feel his nails breaking the skin where they dug into his palms. "What, you wanted to hear about my record being leaked and exaggerated to the school before I even got there? How the students called me a violent sociopath, staining Shujin's image?" Akira kept his voice low. "How the teachers threw shit at me, and tried to blackmail me with expulsion just because they knew no one would care if it happened to someone like me?"

 

His mother looked horrified when he finally managed to meet her eye.

 

"You wanted me to let you and dad know that I was ruining your reputation, even from the city?" He took a deep breath, tried not to wince when he uncurled his fists. "There was nothing to say."

 

Akira watched her process it slowly, and felt a dull ache in his throat when she began to cry, but it didn't change where he stood on the matter.

 

"But..." she shook her head. "You had made so many friends, I thought..."

 

"Eventually," Akira said sharply, looking back down at his hands. "There were other people who already had reputations for things that weren't their fault. Some of them cared enough to actually hear me out." 

 

He ran a thumb over the skin of his wrists, where handcuff bruises had long since healed. "Did you know that when I went back to juvenile hall in December, my friends and Sojiro petitioned on their own to have that woman testify again, against Shido? When I told you and dad that Shido had made that woman lie, dad almost  _hit_  me."

 

His mother's breath was loud and shaky behind the hand she ran over her face. She slumped back against the door, and Akira wanted to get off the couch to let her sit, and maybe to give himself an opportunity to escape. He couldn't bring himself to move his legs.

 

"Reputation," his mother repeated. "We really made you think that we don't care about you as much as our reputation?"

 

Swallowing a heavy lump, Akira nodded. "Because you didn't. I don't know what you think I'd possibly had to call about. The only people who cared how I was really doing in Tokyo were already with me." 

 

He watched his mother slide all the way to the ground and rest her head against her knees. He'd never spoken to her like this, never had wanted to, didn't want to  _now_ , but he couldn't stomach taking all of the responsibility for something he hadn't caused on his own anymore.

 

"I would have stayed at Leblanc. I only came back here at all because Sojiro said you wanted me to," he admitted.

 

They were both silent for a long moment after that.

 

"... That makes sense," she finally said. "I'm not surprised that this isn't home for you anymore."

 

Akira blinked, surprised by the lack of reaction at his declaration. He wondered, with a vile taste in the back of his throat, if this was it, his mother admitting that she felt this really wasn't meant to be his home. 

 

But when he looked at her, so defeated and accepting, he felt numb. Between the two of them, he did at least believe that she wasn't the one that wished Akira wasn't there.

 

 

 

Akira found Morgana asleep inside his bag, waiting the confrontation out. Akira felt heavy and exhausted and awkward, but the idea that Morgana was loyal enough to have prepped to make a house escape with him, in case the fight went sour, made him smile.

 

Morgana peeked up at Akira when he reached inside to pet exposed stomach fur. "Everything okay?" When Akira hummed vaguely, Morgana seemed willing to take it and kicked harmlessly at Akira's offending arm. "Do you want to take a walk?"

 

Akira shook his head. "I don't think it's the best timing for me to storm out," he scooped Morgana up and under his arm to move towards his bed. "I kind of want to take a nap."

 

"It's 8 in the evening, you can't take a nap," Morgana sighed, letting Akira shove them both under the comforter anyway.

 

 

 **Akira** : I miss you guys.

 

 

He let himself drift while strings of heart emojis filled his notifications.


	2. The Good Old Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira spends Golden week with his friends and realizes a few things.

Golden week couldn't have come any slower. Akira felt like he'd spent the whole month performing apathy and nonchalance. 

 

The student body of his high school didn't disregard tact and subtlety like Shujin students had. No one gossiped about him aloud when he entered a room or whispered whenever he spoke. But there were questions, constant, persistent questions about what it was like in Tokyo, in juvie. 

 

Akira wondered if this is how Ann had felt after Kamoshida's confession, with students always coming to her with questions about him, or Shiho, or America, or about anything other than how  _she_  was doing. 

 

He'd only vaguely comprehended the discomfort Ann always had socializing with those student after everything, but he believed he understood it now. It felt voyeuristic, knowing how public his tragedies had been for them to consume and judge without his input for so long.

 

None of those students seemed specifically interested in being his friend beyond that surface level curiosity. He'd been so far removed from them, the drama of a year away, and the walls between him and the place he'd been exiled from felt too thick to break through now. He almost felt guilty that he wasn't too invested in rekindling with any of them either, but he was content to stop pretending to belong there for a few days. He missed Shujin.

 

 

 

Akira was greeted by the sight of Makoto's little blue van in his driveway when he got home. He'd barely stepped into the living room before Makoto had her arms around him.

 

"I thought you weren't coming until the evening," he said into her hair.

 

Talking to each other like this wasn't very efficient, Makoto holding Akira to her by his waist, face pressed to his neck, while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She was just as unwilling to break the hug as he was, settling for tilting her head just enough to not muffle her entirely.

 

"The only lecture I had was an early class. I left around noon," she murmured and let Akira sneak a kiss to the crown of her head. "I wanted to get us back before dark. And I wanted to surprise you."

 

He smiled. "I was surprised."

 

Eventually, they acknowledged that they weren't alone in the room and separated. Akira's mother sat on the far end of the couch with a delighted smile, while Morgana reclined on the other side awkwardly, as though he'd been uprooted suddenly.  Akira assumed Morgana may have been leaning on Makoto before she ran to him.

 

"I can't remember the last time I saw you smile like that," his mother considered, and reveled in how the implication made Akira blush.

 

Makoto gave him a sympathetic, knowing smile. Explaining his relationship with his group wasn't something he had considered tackling with his mother whatsoever, and he didn't know where he would even start. He'd gotten off so easy with Sojiro, hadn't had to say anything out loud for Sojiro to put it together on his own.

 

If his mother decided on her own that Makoto was likely his exclusive girlfriend, she chose not to press on it. "I'm glad she caught me on my day off, so I could let her in," she told Akira. "It's wonderful getting to hear stories about you from your friends."

 

Akira looked to Makoto, desperate.

 

"You know I only have good things to say about you," Makoto promised, amused but genuine. The teasing sound Morgana made from the couch didn't encourage Akira to believe her.

 

 

They only lingered for as long as it took Akira to change out of his school uniform and gather his things. He gave his mother a quick goodbye, and let her give Morgana a parting pat before loading him into the back seat. 

 

He heard Makoto assure his mother that she'd bring him back safely by the end of the week and ducked into the passenger’s seat. Coming back wasn't what he wanted to think about.

 

 

Makoto pulled Akira into a proper kiss as soon as the van doors were shut behind them. "Everyone misses you so much," she told him under her breath.

 

She already knew he felt the same. 

 

 

 **Akira** : On our way.

 

 **Yusuke** : These final hours may feel longer than the past month...

 

 **Haru** : Be safe! We can't wait to see you.

 

 **Ryuji** : or instead of being safe you could tell makoto to floor it so you get back faster

 

 

"No," Makoto responded simply, like Akira had expected. She pulled onto the highway and checked the cruise before reaching a hand over to hold one of his. "I'm not rushing the time I get with you before handing you over to everyone."

 

Akira grinned and laced his fingers through hers. "I'm all yours."

 

Makoto hummed her agreement.

 

"So," she started conversationally, but her voice had dropped to something hesitant. "How have you felt, being back?"

 

It was a question Akira had prepared himself to answer at least a few times that week. "I've been worse. There just isn't a lot to do in the suburbs. Shiho texts me about it sometimes, since she's in the same boat."

 

Makoto nodded, subdued, but didn't take his bait. "And how are your parents?" She squeezed his hand.

 

Akira was a firm believer that trying to contest a struggle by comparing it to someone else's was as arbitrary as it was unfair. It didn't stop him from thinking of his friend's households and feeling ungrateful for not trying to be anything more than amiable to his mother, while so many of his loved ones would give anything just to  _see_  their mothers. He knew they wouldn't judge him, but it weighed on him anyway. 

 

"I haven't seen my dad since I got back, but my mom's been fine. She loves Morgana, which has made a lot of things easier." He watched in the rear-view mirror, Morgana stirring from his napping spot on Akira's duffle, before giving a chirpy purr and rolling over.

 

Makoto used her thumb to stroke the back of his hand. After a long moment, she sighed. "While you were at school, she told me about your fight."

 

He winced. Of course he wasn’t getting around it. "I wouldn't call it a  _fight_."

 

"You mother didn't call it a fight either. But it sounded like it was rough conversation." 

 

Akira closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat. "I shouldn't have spoken to her the way I did." It had been on his mind for weeks, what he could have said differently if he'd been calmer, more prepared, less desperately homesick for somewhere other than his home.

 

"Maybe," Makoto said carefully. "But from what I could tell, she's glad to understand how you feel. She wants you to be where you're happy, but she's still happy you're there with her."

 

Akira didn't know how to respond. Makoto didn't make him, and squeezed his hand again.

 

 

 

Walking into Leblanc this time felt a lot like it had back in February; seven weeks of isolated separation, softened by the promise of no impending ruin and so many smiling faces waiting for him inside.

 

Futaba reached him first, sprinting from her seat at the bar as soon as the door's bell chimed. She barreled into him with a force that made Akira thankful she was still one of the smallest people he knew.

 

"You're  _back_ ," she gasped against his chest, balling her fists into his shirt as thought it had been years. She twitched when he smoothed his hand through her hair before gripping him tighter. "You're really back."

 

"I'm really back," Akira assured her. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

 

 **Mom** : Let me know when you're there safe. Have fun, I love you.

 

 

 

Akira's first night back had been mild, out of respect for the post-travel exhaustion settling into him and Makoto. The group just loitered until after dinner, and only left after procuring at least one kiss each from him. Sojiro had been exasperated by the drama of it all, but had let Futaba take her time saying good night.

 

Being left alone in the cafe hadn't felt lonely. The routine of closing the shop and climbing the creaking staircase gave Akira the same peaceful buzz as rediscovering an old favorite song.

 

Morgana surveyed the attic from Akira's bed while he changed into night clothes. It wasn't very different from when they'd left, furniture was still how Akira arranged it.

 

The only change was a new, impressive computer set up on the old work desk, along with a small stack of high school entrance exam guides. There was no dust settling in the corners, no cobwebs along the rafters, and the idea that someone had cleaned just before he returned made Akira feel spoiled.

 

Settling next to Akira's pillow, Morgana sighed. "This feels right."

 

It was hardly a complete thought, but Akira completely understood.

 

 

 

Akira was rudely awakened the next morning.

 

The blankets were yanked off of him without warning, and before he could so much as process the loss, the weight of someone's entire body fell over him in their place.

 

"Why," he groaned, looking up at Ann grinning back down at him, sitting on his stomach. He watched Ryuji drop his blankets on the couch before throwing himself onto the bed beside them, bouncing Akira around in the act. Morgana seemed to have left him at some point to deal with the assault alone.

 

"Geez, you're such a cat," Ann leaned forward to ruffle Akira's hair while he squirmed underneath her. "It's almost eleven. We were gonna wait downstairs for you to wake up, but we've only got so much time, you know."

 

Effectively preventing Akira's halfhearted struggle from progressing, Ryuji threw an arm across his chest, pinning him down. "Boss said you'd sleep until two if we didn't just come up and wake ya." He pressed his lips to Akira's shoulder.

 

Akira knew when he was beat. "Fine, I'm awake," he settled, and Ann shifted so she could lay down on his other side. "But holding me hostage here won't keep me awake for long."

 

"Just for a little while, dude," Ryuji insisted. "We got some time to make up for."

 

If affection existed as an unseen supply stock designed to last the time between seeing someone, then Akira felt greedy. He could lie under the two of them all day, all week, and he still doubted it would be enough to last him his time away.

 

"I hate that Shiho couldn't come," Ann said quietly, wrapping her arm around Akira's waist. 

 

Akira understood, knew better than to think she was implying that she wasn't as happy he was back. Shiho was always going to be a different story altogether for Ann.

 

He played with one of her pigtails. "The basketball team she manages in Inaba had a meet that she couldn't skip, right?"

 

Ann blinked up at him, surprised.

 

"We've been texting since I moved back. Country-bumpkin solidarity," Akira explained, loving how pleased Ann looked with the development. "She seems happy to be involved in sports again. I wish she could be here too, though."

 

Smiling, Ann nodded. "You're right. I'm glad she's filling her days with something she cares about, even if it can't be volleyball." The solemn sound in Ann's voice was fading into something more wistful and nostalgic. "She told me she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to handle playing it again, but that she was considering studying sports medicine after high school. I think she'd be a great nurse, too. Don't you think so, Ryuji?"

 

Ryuji didn't respond. His head rested heavy against Akira's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing coming slow and calm. He looked very sweet, still holding onto Akira by the neck.

 

"Unbelievable," Akira huffed. "I'm not allowed to sleep until noon, but he can?"

 

Ann kicked her legs over the edge of the bed and walked towards the stairs, shaking her head. "You're both hopeless. I'll ask Boss to put on some coffee for you lazy losers."

 

 

It turned out that everyone had already negotiated how to divide Akira's time in Tokyo among themselves. He might have scoffed at being given an enforced schedule during his vacation, if the idea of it hadn't been so funny to him.

 

Ann and Ryuji had pulled him around Shibuya for the day and made reservations at the Wilton Hotel buffet, for old times’ sake. Flashing wide grins at every well-to-do patron that looked at them funny made the experience twice as satisfying as it had been the first time.

 

 

 

The next day brought Futaba and Yusuke into his room. He'd woken to the bickering on their way up the stairs, which at least saved him from another pouncing.

 

Futaba enthusiastically told Akira about her pet project, the tech set up that had dominated the space no longer needed to craft lock picks and smoke bombs. She'd apparently built the entire computer herself, optimized to her standards. Akira was particularly fond of the sticker resembling the Phantom Thieves logo plastered on the side of the tower.

 

"I like to do my homework up here, now," Futaba said, suddenly looking shy. "It's easier to get Sojiro to funnel coffee and curry into me from here than it would be if I only worked at home. Do you mind?"

 

Akira shook his head, smiling kindly. "Of course not. I'm glad someone's using the space if I'm not." He was also glad to hear that Futaba was still working her way through existing in public spaces so well without him. He was so proud of her. "Congratulations on getting in to Shujin, by the way."

 

Yusuke made a small sound, thoughtful. "To my understanding, she had also been accepted into Kosei's graphic design program."

 

"Yeah, but then I'd have been stuck with just  _you_  and a shitty computer science curriculum," Futaba threw herself down into the new desk chair she'd chosen for the space and looked to Akira. "Can you imagine me having no choice but to hang out with him every day? I'd get us both expelled."

 

Unfazed, Yusuke nodded and pulled a travel sketchbook out of his bag. "It's just as well. I doubt I would have the time to entertain you while I managed my concentration portfolio, anyhow."

 

Akira leaned towards him, smiling when Yusuke tilted the sketchbook out of his sight. Since when was he bashful? "What's the theme of your senior portfolio?"

 

"Belonging," Yusuke told him easily, finding a clean page. "I've also been trying my hand at the type of representational figure drawing my mother practiced. I've looked towards all of our friends for inspiration."

 

Before Akira could respond, Futaba clicked her tongue. "What _ever_. You sometimes sketch the rest of us when we hang out, but all you've really been doing for the past month is drawing Akira." She got up and plucked the sketchbook from Yusuke's hands, flipping a few pages back to what were, indeed, portrait studies of Akira.

 

"Well." The bridge of Yusuke's nose was turning very pink. Akira's may have been, too. "Trying to draw him from memory hasn't been fruitful. I still haven't managed to capture the lopsided way he smiles quite right."

 

Futaba handed the sketchbook to Akira, seeing as Yusuke no longer seemed determined to hide what was already in the open. Akira carefully looked through it, and leaned against Yusuke's side to reassure he wasn't making fun of him. While there were a few sweet sketches of Haru drinking coffee or Ryuji mid-jog, the majority of the pages were filled with drawings of him. Some depicted him in his Leblanc apron, some as Joker, some pages were just studies of the way his hair curled. 

 

He knew Yusuke sometimes secretly sketched him when they'd sat together in Shibuya's underpass, and was aware that the  _Desire and Hope_  painting had been abstractly inspired by him and their friends. To look at such a literal representation of how Yusuke saw him was almost as intimate as it was embarrassing. Akira wondered how close Yusuke must have watched him to be able to draw these from memory.

 

"As it so happens," Yusuke said, accepting his sketchbook back at last, "I have the good fortune to draw you in person as you are, right in front of me once again."

 

"Gay," Futaba responded, turning on her computer.

 

 

 

Akira was already up and downstairs, helping Sojiro with the shop, when Makoto and Haru arrived. He hadn’t been sure if their methods of waking him would have been much kinder or much more brutal, and he’d decided not to risk it.

 

Sojiro didn't seem interested if letting him go just because of the company, but Makoto and Haru seemed more than content to sit at the bar and let Akira make them coffee all day. In fairness, he was more than content to serve them all day, too.

 

"Tell me about university," he requested generally, to both of them. "How are your classes?"

 

Haru sighed, resting her cheek against her palm. "I'm still only taking general education classes. A business minor requires a lot of math classes, so it seems." She pat Akira's hand affectionately before taking a mug from him.

 

Makoto smiled and rubbed Haru's shoulder soothingly, as though she hadn't managed the high grades to test out of most gen-ed courses entirely. "I'm taking an interesting class on criminal psychology at the moment," she said, glancing behind her at the booth they'd taken to consulting over towards the end of everything. "A lot of the vocabulary takes me back to the research we'd done on cognitive psychology throughout last year."

 

None of them had really discussed their feelings about the Metaverse being gone for good, along with their alter egos. None of them could ever resent the peace of mind knowing that Yaldobaoth's will wasn't imposing itself over humanity anymore, but there was a bitter sweetness that Akira knew they'd all felt.

 

Acting as the Phantom Thieves had given them more purpose than they'd known what to do with; a way to help people, a way to relieve the stress and aggression they had to carry peacefully in the public eye, a way to keep themselves from complacency. Palace heists and Mementos requests had given them the chance to learn how to rely on other people, to  _be_ with other people.

 

They knew their lives now weren't purposeless or lonely, even without their powers. They hadn't lost their bonds, their goals for the future, or the desire to see them out together. But it was hard not to miss their first connection, the confidence that came with letting themselves go and knowing there was a solid support at their side to patch any wounds, to pick up any slack.

 

Akira pushed another mug across the bar to Makoto, and she looked back to him with a vulnerable smile.

 

"The work and commute must be tough on the both of you," Sojiro hovered over the stove in the kitchenette, overseeing but still giving them their space. "I've seen you two the least since classes started back up."

 

Makoto nodded. "The time I spent studying obsessively in high school almost feels as though its paying off," she admitted. "It's a lot more work. I feel like my sister, not being able to find the chance to leave campus at all, some nights."

 

Haru looked down into her mug. "I miss being able to make the trip to Leblanc after classes with everyone," she sounded regretful, and Akira could see Sojiro starting to fret, not having intended to make either of them feel guilty.

 

Akira leaned over counter in a way that Sojiro would normally scold him for. "All I have in my mother's house is a standard instant coffee pot. I can't believe how spoiled I got by the coffee here."

 

Sojiro crossed his arms and looked away, so Akira wouldn't see the pride on his face.

 

Smiling softly, Haru tipped her cup towards Akira for a refill. "I do have one exciting thing at my university. The dean gave me permission to start keeping planters on the main building's roof, just like I had at Shujin."

 

"I suppose it was easy to make a convincing argument for them, since you're studying nutrition and food management," Makoto guessed, reasonably.

 

"It's also easy when your name is Okumura," Haru replied, honestly. She sounded put off by it, which made Akira laugh.

 

After a moment, she met his eye. "Aki-kun, be honest with me." When Haru took her mug this time, she held onto Akira's hand. "Do you miss Shujin as bad as I do?"

 

God, did he.

 

 

 

The last night Akira spent in Tokyo, he got to spend with all of them. 

 

They came to Leblanc with bags of sleep clothes, extra pillows, snacks. Sojiro rolled his eyes, muttered something about his cafe not being a party house, but he also took the time to tell Akira where the extra futons were. Ultimately, Futaba bailed when Sojiro decided to head home, not too keen on sweating it out between  _all_  of them all night. Before she went, she held Akira in the longest hug he'd ever had.

 

It did take a few of the spare futons for all of them to fit, but they managed it.

 

Ryuji curled up against Akira's chest, with Ann close behind him, a leg hooked over them both. She rested her chin on the top of Ryuji's head, her forehead pressed against Akira's.

 

Makoto rested on his opposite side while Haru did her very best at being the big spoon behind her, head pillowed on Akira's outstretched arm.

 

Yusuke took a moment to stand over them, taking a few photos of the pile. He probably intended to look to them as drawing material, but it was nice to have the memory documented regardless. He quietly let himself in beside the mess of limbs, pulling a light sheet over all of them. He easily reached over both Haru and Makoto to place a hand tenderly on Akira's stomach. 

 

They spoke in quiet voices, telling Akira about shenanigans they’d gotten up to together while he was away, talking about what they should do for the summer. They all managed to touch him somehow, and admittedly, it was terribly sweaty and heavy in the center. He kept any complaint he had to himself.

 

Akira could feel himself coming to terms with how touch starved he really was, like all of them were before they found each other. Growing up without that kind of regular contact had left him convinced he just wasn't a tactile person, that he didn't know how to give or receive anyone's touch, that he didn't need it. 

 

It had been a shock to his system, adjusting to every swell of energy that coursed through his body after a baton pass, every arm thrown around his shoulders in greeting, every reassuring hand on his back, curious fingers in his hair, or worried thumb against a new bruise or cut. He hadn't known how cold he'd be left each time the contact was lost, or how badly he'd want to reach out and touch back.

 

No wonder he'd cried when his mother hugged him.

 

He felt Morgana curl into a ball by his head, felt a paw touch his cheek, and couldn't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else.

 

 

 

"Thank you for letting me stay here, again."

 

"Where the hell else would you stay?" Sojiro huffed at him. "Besides, you saw that Futaba keeps your room clean. It’s always there for when you come home."

 

The word caught them both by surprise, and Sojiro immediately stammered, tried to backpedal, change the conversation. 

 

Sojiro had dedicatedly spent most of the visit with a careful indifference to the event. Nothing as cold or impassive as Akira's very first arrival, but more as though Akira hadn't ever left in the first place, as if a month away was nothing at all.

 

The line of sleepy teenagers slowly filing into the cafe from the attic didn’t seem to have any mind for Sojiro's embarrassed grumbles. But Futaba met his eye from her place at the bar, grinning at him. She silently mouthed the word 'home', and Akira did his best not to break down, right there.

 

 

 

Leaving hurt ten times worse than it had the last time.

 

Makoto had taken the long route home, had sat with Akira in his mother's driveway for almost an hour, flipping through the photos he'd taken on his phone for the past few days before Morgana reluctantly reminded them that Makoto needed to get home before late. 

 

The hug his mother gave him when he walked inside was warm and welcome in a way he was still adapting to, but it just wasn't enough. It wasn't home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little later than i would have liked, but hopefully not disappointing. relationship tags updated; i didn't want to bait anyone in before delivering.
> 
> this fic was very scary to put out and the kind words and encouragement to continue it honestly surprised me, so thank you very much. i'm not certain whether it'll be one more chapter, or a chapter and an epilogue, but i hope you'll continue to be patient with me.
> 
> watch me do nothing but retweet pictures of akira ([@yyormgen](https://twitter.com/yyormgen)) or check out my other work on tumblr ([@tolbyccia](http://tolbyccia.tumblr.com/)).


	3. Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira tries again, and his mother meets his friends.

Akira liked to keep busy. He felt best when he was moving, helping someone, doing something with his hands or eyes.

 

Before moving, he attended cram school most evenings, because his father approved of it and it gave him an excuse to take walks before going home. It served him well enough for staying on top of his studies, and still did, but his last cram session had been the night he was arrested. The association was still too bitter for him to consider returning to it.

 

He explained to his friends once, during an exam review, that he was only so good at studying because he used to do it as a way to pass the time. Ann and Makoto were particularly frustrated by it, for different and amusing reasons, but the group overall had surprised him with their concern. He supposed, in hindsight, that it most likely did sound a bit pathetic out loud.

 

Even now that Akira was a little older, his after-school options were still limited. Shopping centers in the area were meager, the only arcade was on the farther end of town, the bars only served adults. There was a nice enough park he could jog at, but there was a constant police surveillance that fueled his anxiety in a way he wasn't sure he'd be able to overcome on his own anytime soon. 

 

For as much as Akira  _hated_  jogging as a training regimen the first few months Ryuji or Morgana dragged him along to the gym, he'd found a familiarity in it. It gave him memories of thing he missed, like ramen stops, or rushing through Palaces.

 

Sometimes, if he was in the right mindset for it, it took him back to the gymnastics he'd done when he was younger, before his father decided thirteen was too old to be wasting time on flashy athletics. It had required so much focus on his breathing, posture, environment, that he'd rarely had the chance to just  _think_  back then. He'd felt the same when he went on runs.

 

He thought a lot about how nice it had been to utilize those acrobatics in the Metaverse, how worthwhile being nimble ended up for him. He thought about what he'd say to his father if he ran into him on the street, at the store, at work. He spent too much time doing nothing but thinking, lately.

 

 

 **Haru** : Aki-kun, I hope this doesn't come off as disapproval of your choices...

 

 **Haru** : But are you really considering working part time for the Big Bang Burger in your town...?

 

 

Part time jobs were one of the few doors that his time away opened up for him, even in the suburbs. He was old enough now that there weren't many restrictions on what work he could legally do, and he'd built an impressive resume in Tokyo. Between the retail and food service, he had a good range and generally picked up whatever he could around town. The monotonous repetition was as good a distraction as anything.

 

 

 **Akira** : No, I was only kidding when I mentioned that. Would feel too weird.

 

 **Haru** : Yes... It would feel strange for me as well.

 

 **Akira** : You'll still consider hiring me when you open your cafe though, right?

 

 **Haru** : !!! Oh, of course! That's different, my father's name won't be attached to that.

 

 **Futaba** : ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ ... how many jobs do you have right now anyway?

 

 **Akira** : I think I'm jumping between five at the moment?

 

 

The chat's sudden silence was jarring. It gave him the time to remember the convenience store job he'd picked up over the weekend, but he thought better of amending his answer to six.

 

 

 **Akira** : Come on, I worked at least that many in Tokyo, too. It's not like I do all of them every day.

 

 **Ann** : Leblanc doesn't count!! neither does the work you did for Lala-chan because you only did that twice!

 

 **Futaba** : old man Tora doesn't count because he didn't pay you

 

 **Ryuji** : iwai doesnt count either bc he made u do shady shit AND didn't pay u

 

 **Akira** : That's not true, Iwai bought me dinner all the time.

 

 **Makoto** : That's... an entirely different series of issues we can discuss another time.

 

 **Yusuke** : For what it's worth, at least we can guarantee that Akira rests once the Summer arrives.

 

 

Akira's jobs in Tokyo had been so eccentric that the mundanity of his few cashier or waiter gigs hardly felt worth worrying over. He worked most days because he wanted to, not because of any high demand for business out in the country.

 

He felt Morgana's chin rest against his shoulder. Akira only brought Morgana to school occasionally now, when Morgana insisted he didn't mind staying in Akira's bag the whole time. He was a good sport about the lack of desk space most days, so long as Akira kept his bag on his lap once in a while.

 

"They're right, you know," Morgana told him around a yawn. "It's not like you need the money. You should take it easy and rest once and a while."

 

"We can't all catnap through every day." Akira smiled, thinking about some weeks back when Morgana had accused him of sleeping too much. He decided not to dwell on it, it was nicer than the year he'd spent with Morgana's strict curfew, he supposed.

 

Morgana huffed and kneaded at Akira's blazer. "I'm serious. Why don't we just go back for today? Your mom will be home early."

 

Akira reached back to scratch between Morgana's ears, so Morgana hushed. Akira got his point.

 

 

 

As his luck would've had it, somehow none of his daytime jobs needed him that afternoon anyway. To Morgana's satisfaction, he returned to his house after only one detour to the market.

 

"You're going to make Sojiro's curry?" Morgana sounded excited, rummaging through the grocery bags Akira left on the kitchen floor. "You talked big about learning how to cook and never delivered!"

 

Setting the apples and honey away from the rest of the ingredients, Akira hesitated before checking the drawers for a stock pot and cutting board. "I hope I remember how to do this."

 

 "I'm sure you've got it down to muscle memory." Morgana insisted, leaving the bags to circle Akira's legs.

 

Akira carefully stepped around the enthusiastic warpath, but smiled at the vote of confidence. "I'm holding knives, don't trip me," he warned, moving to prep the chicken.

 

Sure enough, Akira felt like he was moving on autopilot before long. His mother's kitchen was bigger than Leblanc's, and all the utensils took a moment to find, but by the time he started the rice cooker, everything was starting to smell familiar. It smelled like home.

 

 

Akira's mother came back just as he was finishing. She'd followed the smell, stepped into the kitchen confused and cautious. Seeing him startled her, and Akira made an effort not to laugh.

 

"You're home," she sounded awed, taking in the scene. "And you made  _dinner_?"

 

Akira smiled weakly. "It was kind of an impulse. Did you have dinner planned already?" 

 

He knew he was still horrible at remembering to text his mother back when he was acting on a whim that she might want to be aware of. Sojiro hadn't demanded to know his cellphone number until last October, when he'd finally known exactly what Akira was getting up to. His friends usually let a missed response slide, if it wasn't urgent. Akira was still adjusting, told himself that he would try harder.

 

To his relief, she shook her head. "I didn't know you'd be home for dinner. I would have just eaten something left over." She joined him by the stove. "Curry?"

 

Akira turned off the heat and moved to plate the rice for them both. He paused, almost nervous to serve his mother something he tied so intimately with Sojiro and Futaba, people he knew how to please.

 

It had been a month since he ate Leblanc's curry, and over two since he'd made it himself. Despite Futaba's alleged preference for how Akira prepared it, Sojiro seemed determined to refuse Akira any labor heavier than coffee-making and dishes over Golden week. Akira hadn't made a bad batch in ages, but he hadn't ever fed his mother, either.

 

His nerves disappeared as quickly as they'd come, watching her face brighten around a mouthful. He didn't know why he ever doubted, he learned from the best.

 

 

 **Akira** : Still practicing, promise.

 

_Akira Kurusu has sent an image_

 

 **Boss** : Color looks off. No cocoa powder?

 

 **Akira** : SHIT

 

 **Boss** : Still got a while before you'll pass me at this rate.

 

 **Boss** : Keep it up, kid. I'll remember to drill you next time you're in town.

 

 

"What's that face for?" His mother asked, halfway through her plate. "Are you texting Sakura-san?"

 

Still awful at hiding his phone under the table, so it seemed. "Almost 200 miles away, and he can still tell me at a glance what I didn't get right," Akira admitted. "He's picking on me for getting rusty."

 

Swallowing another mouthful, she hummed. He was grateful that she seemed to like it, even with a little misstep. "I suppose it's hard for him to be a mentor, with you so far from home," she said kindly.

 

Akira nodded before he could think about it. When he did think about it, the guilt was  _instant_.

 

It wasn't a secret between them that Akira still wasn't at home in his mother's house. He established early on that his feeling about his hometown were distant at best, but he'd been trying to maintain the courtesy of at least not calling Tokyo his home to his mother's face.

 

His mother didn't wait for him to make an excuse. "I was so surprised when I heard you home so early... You finding something you could do here to feel closer to the people you met there is probably a good thing," she said softly, examining her plate and sparing him from making eye contact.

 

He watched her finish her last few bites quietly. He could tell she had more to say, but he wasn't certain he knew where the conversation was going. It's why he'd been avoiding it.

 

"I'm glad," she said at last. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, but she sounded genuine. "I'm so glad you were able to find somewhere you belonged, with everything that happened. That's all I could want, is for you to have a place that you're happy."

 

Akira didn't trust himself to speak. He could feel that she was going to leave what they were both thinking unsaid, that she knew he'd never be happy there, in that town, in that house, just with her. It didn't really need to be said.

 

So instead of speaking, Akira lowered his head and finished his food. 

 

His mother silently reached across the table and placed her hand around his wrist, squeezing gently. Somehow, it felt like acceptance, forgiveness.

 

 

 

They didn't call it one out loud, but they came to an ultimatum over the weeks following the dinner. Akira's mother gave him a small list of chores now and then, usually grocery shopping, cooking and dishes, busy work he could make a schedule out of. In return for the task to keep him from wandering or sleeping his day away, he would actually spend a few evenings of the week at home with her, instead of finding work outside just for the sake of it.

 

It was horribly silly to call it an ultimatum, Morgana had argued, but Akira knew a deal when he saw one. His mother was offering him an olive branch, a method to combat the complacency he couldn't hide when he was in her house, and in exchange she wanted the chance to finally be a mother to him.

 

Akira was ashamed by how much easier it was for him to be told what to do than it was for him to answer how his day went in more than one word. He couldn't tell if the year away had really just left him that prone to burying his feelings in favor of apathy, or if he was just that painfully unused to an adult wanting to know what his feeling were in the first place.

 

"Don't feel too bad about it," Morgana assured Akira one afternoon, while he swept the hallway. "You've always sucked at eloquent conversation anyway. She won't hold it against you."

 

Narrowly avoiding the bristles of the broom flung over his head, Morgana scrambled into the living room.

 

"Akira," his mother said from the couch, when Akira inevitably followed his gremlin of a cat to her. "Your final exams are coming up, aren't they?" She'd let Morgana sprawl across her lap while she rubbed his belly, because of course.

 

He set the broom aside, not paying Morgana's sigh of relief any mind. "I'm not worried about them," Akira told her honestly. He was bored at school, but managing.

 

"I didn't think you would be. I figured you must be getting excited about going to Tokyo for the summer, afterwards." Her voice was light, teasing.

 

Even if he'd never considered not going back to Tokyo for the summer, it surprised him that she mentioned it first. Regardless, Akira nodded. 

 

His mother held her smile, but Akira noticed that she was fidgeting, tucking and untucking her legs, absently twirling a tuft of Morgana's fur around her finger. "I wonder," she started, and then hesitated for a long moment. She took a breath. "I wonder if you'd let me drive you down, this time?"

 

The quiet while Akira tried to understand her request visibly didn't do much for her nerves. "... You want to go to Tokyo?"

 

"Not for the entire summer," she said quickly, and looked to her lap, where Morgana looked to Akira intently. "The people you love are there. Since they're important to you, they're important to me. I'd like to know them, if you want me to."

 

 

 

 **Akira** : So.

 

 **Akira** : How do you guys feel about meeting my mom over the summer?

 

 **Ann** : she's going to come with you?! O:

 

 **Ryuji** : OH

 

 **Akira** : She wants to, yeah.

 

 **Makoto** : She's was very sweet when I met her.

 

 **Futaba** : wait, so she's gonna be like  _here_  here

 

 **Akira** : She's not going to stay at Leblanc with me or anything, but she wants to come to Tokyo for a week to meet you guys.

 

 **Ann** : I want to meet her!! omg

 

 **Ryuji** : me too me too

 

 **Makoto** : She isn't aware of the nuances of Akira's relationship with us. Be mindful.

 

 **Yusuke** : Understandable, but I worry that trying to withhold our affection appropriately when we see him will be harder than it sounds.

 

 **Akira** : I think she saw everything from when you guys dropped me off in March, and she didn't have any issues then. I just haven't figured out how to breach the topic.

 

 **Ryuji** : so as long as we don't call ourselves the polyamorous crime ring out loud its cool right

 

 **Futaba** : yep

 

 **Akira** : No???

 

 **Haru** : How exciting! I'm certain everyone will be on their best behavior.

 

 **Makoto** : I'm not as confident about that,

 

 **Ryuji** : wow

 

 **Futaba** : WOW

 

 **Makoto** : but I do believe it will be an exciting visit. I'm looking forward to it.

 

 **Yusuke** : As am I.

 

 **Haru** : ♥

 

 **Ann** : ♥♥♥

 

 

 

So, Akira's mother rented a car and reserved at a modest hotel for the week. Sojiro offered her a room, she assured Akira, but she wasn't comfortable putting him out of his way before she'd gotten to speak with him in person. Akira tended to forget that they hadn't actually met, that Sojiro had just been a friend of an acquaintance, a very distant convenience for his parole. The idea might have stung once upon a time, but Akira figured he got lucky enough with the arrangement.

 

"I'm already putting him out," Akira told her, good-natured. "He always says that having me and my friends running up and down the cafe stairs all day was bad for business."

 

His mother smiled, keeping her eyes on the road. She apparently hadn't driven in a while. "When I spoke to him about it, he told me that his shop feels too quiet without you and Morgana moving around upstairs. I don't think he minds keeping a room for you."

 

Akira turned to look out the window, while Morgana made a pleased sound from his lap. His mother was still intently looking ahead, but he wasn't going to risk her catching him flush at the idea that Sojiro might  _miss_  him.

 

"I can't wait to see that, either," she continued. "A space that's really all yours."

 

It almost felt like a confession from her, an apology for what he hadn't gotten growing up. Autonomy, self-expression, just a room he could make his own.

 

 

 

His mother being in Leblanc, sitting at the bar and chatting with Sojiro, was weird. Not a bad weird, but like a collision on two worlds he'd never been able to meld in his head.

 

Futaba threw the cafe door open before long, saving him from having to sort out his confusing feelings for the moment. It was early afternoon, but she was still in her favorite pajamas and most likely only woke up to his arrival text. He was honored to be her first priority for the day.

 

Akira let her settle next to him and Morgana in the booth, and waited for her to press the top of her head into the palm of his hand. "Hey, Bug."

 

"Hey, yourself," She beamed, while he smoothed out the remains of her bedhead. She snuck a glance at Akira's mother, who smiled politely at Futaba's entrance but had given them a moment. "So, you brought another party member with you this time?"

 

Akira gave her a patient smile. "You mean other than Morgana?"

 

"Oh, he doesn't count. Mona's more like a summon, or a mount."

 

Morgana hissed. "I resent that! I'm not his pet or car, I was Akira's  _first_  party member!"

 

"You feel up to meeting her?" Akira looked to Futaba, placating Morgana with a loving scratch to his ears.

 

Giving his mother another once-over, Futaba nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can do it. She kinda looks like you, so that'll help."

 

Futaba did well meeting Akira's mother. She stood just behind him when she introduced herself, a habit she hadn't needed in a while, but she held her own. Akira reached back to pat her head again, to let her know he was proud of her.

 

"You two almost look like siblings," his mother said, thoughtful. It brought back that weird clashingfeeling, like trying to mix similar pieces of different puzzles into one.

 

Sojiro cleared his throat, and Akira wondered if he was thinking something similar. "They may as well be, after last year." He seemed to take a moment to consider his words. "Futaba tells everyone that he's her brother, anyway—"

 

"Oh, my god!" Futaba shrieked, face red. She looked up at Akira for a moment, and he would have laughed at her expression if he weren't still processing Sojiro's words himself. She pulled away from his side to run into the kitchenette. "Why would you say that in front of him!"

 

"Because you  _do_ ," Sojiro answered, unimpressed. "I didn't know this was news!"

 

 Akira decided that he'd have to sort out the intense swell of affection he suddenly felt for Futaba later. Akira looked for his mother's reaction, so he wouldn't get caught up in his own.

 

She had one hand to her chest and the other to her mouth, barely covering a wide smile, while she watched Sojiro try to coax Futaba out of hiding. She turned to look at Akira with the same overwhelmed tenderness. 

 

His parents never even considered having a second child, so he could understand how surprising it was see him with Futaba, her big brother in everything but blood. He also understood, because the shy, awkward, genuine love he received from the Sakura family still overwhelmed him, too.

 

 

Ryuji arrived just in time to shift the focus from Futaba, and let her slink back into the booth while Ryuji hauled Akira up and against his side. Their customary side-hug.

 

He left his arm around Akira's shoulders while he introduced himself to Akira's mother, radiating all the charm of the friendly puppy Akira knew him to be. Ryuji shook her hand firmly, made her laugh with how he jostled Akira around under his arm while giving an animated, abridged explanation of the ways Akira had helped him through the past year.

 

It had been ages since Sojiro had taken any note or care to the way Ryuji and Akira hung off of each other if they were near enough, and it had been about as long since Akira and Ryuji took any note of it, either. Akira caught himself absently moving his fingers over the hand Ryuji let hang over his chest, toying with the bracelets around Ryuji's wrist. Ryuji didn't notice.

 

Akira knew his mother noticed. He could feel her eyes follow the little touches, could see her take in the lack of personal space he had with any of his friends around. He grew up holding people at an arms-length distance at the least, so seeing Ryuji glued to his side, Futaba to his back, the hugs she saw him share with Makoto, this closeness, was all incredibly new to her. It was still new for him.

 

When she met Akira's eye, she smiled.

 

"Oh, by the way," Ryuji turned to look back to the booth. "Why's your face all red, Bug?"

 

Futaba groaned. "Sojiro's the  _worst_  and told Akira I've been calling him my  _brother_."

 

"Oh yeah, that's true. Everyone at Shujin knows." Ryuji grinned, and ignored Futaba's embarrassed cry. "Even with your record cleared, folks are still hangin' on to some rumors, and no one's gonna risk messing around with  _your_  little sis."

 

Despite himself, Akira laughed. "Do they really still think I was that dangerous?"

 

Ryuji shrugged. "Nah, not in that way at least. Y'know, people didn't just ignore the whole case with Shido and, uh. What we all did. You're gonna be a Shujin legend one way or another, dude."

 

"And  _I_  deserve to use it for my own benefit!" Futaba slammed her hands against the booth, earning a huff from Sojiro. "Just like I deserve to use Ryuji and Ann and Mishima as body guards!"

 

"You... use Yuuki for protection?" Akira sounded more incredulous than he intended, but regardless.

 

"Well. No, not really," Futaba sighed, honest. "But it's nice having senior friends anyway. Makes me feel less like a small fry. It's like getting to run a campaign with a higher-level party, so you can reap the benefits without doing the scary part yourself."

 

Ryuji shrugged. "She's doing fine on her own, too," he released Akira so he could give Futaba's head a pat. "Word got out that she helps me 'n Ann with our homework during lunch breaks sometimes, other first years gotta respect that."

 

"I am pretty incredible," Futaba grinned. "Throwing your name around just makes it easier to convince other people, sometimes."

 

Akira could never mind much of anything Futaba wanted to use him for.

 

"And on that note," Ryuji leaned close, voice low. "How’s it been, watching your mom meet your new dad?"

 

Akira didn't think Sojiro or his mother heard Ryuji, but he knows they saw him bury his face in his hands, mortified, while Futaba cackled.

 

 

 

"Morning!" Ann sang, pushing the door to Leblanc open. "Guess who I brought!"

 

Shiho and Yusuke filed in behind her, patient, while Ann rushed into the kitchen to get her arms around Akira. Ryuji narrowly stepped out of her way before joining the other two.

 

"Long time, no see!" Shiho reached up on the tips of her toes to ruffle Ryuji's messy hair.

 

"Are you wearing Akira's clothes?" Yusuke tugged at the seam of the t-shirt, clinging a couple sizes too tight for Ryuji's chest.

 

"Geez!" Ryuji huffed, stepping away from both of them. "I  _might_  have spent the night. Wouldn't wearin' my own clothes two days in a row be more obvious?"

 

Akira brought a few plates of reheated curry to the bar, smiling wryly until Ann jabbed a finger against a bruise only barely peeking around his shirt collar, forcing a startled yelp out of him.

 

"Just as incriminating as this," she hummed, readjusting Akira's shirt for him. "But no one's judging."

 

"My mom might," Akira considered.

 

"I'm judging," Morgana clarified from the bar stool he likely spent the night on.

 

Shiho took a seat at the bar in front of Akira, gratefully accepting the plate he scooted towards her. "It really has been a long time, though. I hate that I missed you during Golden week!"

 

Akira smiled. "I'm glad you could make it down this time." He slid Yusuke the plate he'd heated for himself and turned away to pick out a lighter coffee brew for the morning. "But we did miss you."

 

Sighing, Shiho pulled her phone out and scrolled through her texts with Akira until she found a series of photos. "Every time I look at these I get jealous. I missed out on so many kisses."

 

Ann practically threw herself over the bar to reach a giggling Shiho, while Ryuji pressed his lips to the part in her hair. 

 

"We have all summer," Ann promised, kissing Shiho's cheek sweetly. She nudged Akira with her foot, assuring him that the promise was for him too.

 

 

They all settled quickly when Akira's mother pushed the door open. Akira smiled at her, and Ryuji waved, but Ann and Yusuke seemed to take a moment to make the connection.

 

"Ah," Yusuke said at last, sounding pleased. "You really do look just like your mother. I can finally understand where so much of your natural charm comes from."

 

Akira's mother smiled into the palm of her hand, while Akira blushed into his own.

 

"Wait, no fair!" Ann whined, swatting at Yusuke as he passed her to greet Akira's mother properly. "No one said you were allowed to make the best first impression! Cheater!"

 

Shiho pat Akira's arm while he tried to recover.

 

 

Haru brought a half-asleep Futaba with her around noon, and safely deposited her into a booth before offering her hand to Akira's mother.

 

"She can't come today, but Mako-chan told me how much she enjoyed talking to you," Haru said sweetly, bowing her head. "So, it really is an honor to finally meet you!"

 

Haru's formality and composure seemed to fluster Akira's mother just as much as Yusuke's flattery had, until Haru excused herself to run into Akira's open arms.

 

"Ooh, my favorite cat is back in town," Haru cooed, gently running her fingers through his hair while he leaned over to hug her back. "My favorite, fluffy boy!"

 

Akira blushed hard against Haru's shoulder. Being called a cat wasn't new, nor was being treated like one of Haru's favorite pets, but hearing his mother's startled laugh at Haru's endearments was incredibly compromising and embarrassing, like he'd been caught in the act of something even more telling than the hickey under his collar. Though, he still couldn't find the heart to ask Haru not to.

 

Morgana made a wounded sound, watching Haru's doting, and squeaked when Ryuji pulled him off the stool and under his arm. 

 

"Don't start! You only wanna be treated like a cat when it's convenient for you," Ryuji grinned, dropping Morgana onto Futaba's lap.

 

Haru left Akira to console Morgana, and most of them squeezed into the booth with her, to wake Futaba, or spoil Morgana, or tease Ryuji over his clothes. Akira moved towards the bar, to refill his coffee, but Shiho caught his arm and pulled him into the thick of it.

 

His mother watched them banter around him, catch him up on the past weeks, while he sat more content and at peace then she'd ever seen him.

 

 

Before long, Sojiro stepped in with the week's groceries, barely regarding the chattering group any more than it took to drop a bag of snacks on the table between them.

 

The cafe was empty beyond them, the "CLOSED" sign never flipped, so he settled for refilling the neglected mug in front of Akira's mother and give her a private, knowing smile.

 

 

Later in the week, exams finally finished and behind her, Makoto joined Akira and his mother for lunch in Shibuya. They were already well acquainted, had already shared phone numbers to Akira's vague discomfort, but it made for a calm meal.

 

Makoto sighed into her coffee, looking like she needed every drop of it. "Akira, I've decided I won't judge you in the slightest if you decide not to pursue college. This school system isn't kind and I believe you have the skill set to succeed without it."

 

Akira grinned. "I literally never would have guessed I would hear those words ever come from you, but thank you for the compliment." He waved down a waiter, pointing to Makoto's cup for a refill.

 

"What were you thinking of doing after you graduate?" His mother asked without any implication.

 

"I've thought about university," Akira answered, guarded anyway. "But I don't know where, or what for."

 

Makoto tapped the rim of her mug, smiling. "You could always take over Leblanc for Boss."

 

"Please! Sojiro barely lets me work there, I don't think he'd ever let me run Leblanc."

 

"I don't know. I think he expects to pass it over," Makoto said, conspiratorially. She giggled at Akira's bewildered expression, but didn't elaborate. "Regardless, you'll always have something you could do in Tokyo."

 

 

Coming back to Tokyo was always on Akira's mind, and regardless of what he decided to do after high school, he knew where he'd be for it. It was still courtesy that kept him from talking openly about it to his mother, but he wasn't naive enough to think she couldn't tell.

 

He walked with her around Central Street after parting with Makoto. His mother was leaving the next morning, while he planned to stay until the end of August. She'd only recently convinced him to stay around the house, for him spend a whole _month_ out of town anyway. Akira could spend one afternoon away from his friends for her sake.

 

"You really do love this town, don't you?" she asked him, smiling easily.

 

He tugged at his hair, and hummed. "The weather and the subways are awful, and the people walk and talk too fast."

 

She laughed openly at his attempt at country sensibilities, and Akira felt some tension leave his shoulders. "But you love so many people here."

 

He really did.

 

"It was such a shock," his mother said quietly, lacing her fingers together, “seeing you so affectionate. I've never seen you as happy as you are here, surrounded by your friends."

 

Akira nodded, because it was true. He'd never wanted to be as close to anyone as he did now.

 

"I knew back in March that you'd end up back here. Even before you told me that you only came home because I wanted you to."

 

He still felt guilty, having that in the open. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she shook her head before he could start.

 

"I know I didn't do it right. I took too long to stop prioritizing your father's feelings," she said evenly, and Akira almost wondered if she'd rehearsed this. "I'm only human, I couldn't have been perfect, but there was plenty I always knew I should have done differently, what I could have done for you the year you spent here."

 

She looked back at him, where he’d stopped walking. He hadn't been prepared for her admittance to come as anything more than mindful gestures, so hearing it out loud made it all way too real.

 

"It only took Sakura-san a few months to learn how to be what I had 17 years to figure out, Akira. He told me about when you went back to juvie in December, you know. How it wasn't just your friends, how you had other adults come forward for you in and out of court. So many people who had less obligations to you than your father or I ever did, all there for you."

 

She shook her head again, and reached out to touch his arm.

 

"We were awful when you were arrested, and I can't take that back. But I can be glad that you weren't alone, and that you were able to trust adults again. That you could let love in."

 

Her expression softens when she looks up into Akira's face, and he can't begin to image how he looks.

 

"You know," she said, still holding his arm. "I cried after you and Makoto-chan left for Golden week. It hurt so much watching you leave again, but I'd never seen you look the way you did when you hugged her. I couldn't stop thinking about the stories you told me in your bedroom of the things you did with people in Tokyo... I had been so afraid that we ruined you from making connections like that."

 

Akira swallowed hard. "I think they probably saved me," he managed, wondering if he was rubbing salt in a wound, "from thinking that I had to deal with things alone."

 

She smiled, quiet and honest, and started walking towards the Station Square. He followed.

 

After a long moment, waiting for the line back to Yongen, she took his arm again. "Your dad hated the city, but I think I could see myself here."

 

Akira blinked, because that was pretty drastic. "You've lived in that house my whole life."

 

"And for what?" She said sharply. "I followed my heart to that house, and my heart isn't there anymore. That neighborhood has what? Memories of your father? Of that politician?"

 

Akira flinched, but let her continue.

 

"My heart is only where you are. And your heart isn't there either."

 

"What about your job?" He asked carefully. She'd had her salon for a decade, and Akira couldn't imagine uprooting it would be easy on her, no matter what she said.

 

But, his mom just laughed, louder than he'd ever heard her. "You think I can't find a parlor in Tokyo? Akira, between Shibuya and Harajuku, I think I could figure it out."

 

He felt himself crack a small smile. Maybe she hadn't been thinking about this on a whim. "... When?"

 

She took a deep breath before meeting his eye. "I think we could aim to have you back in March. Give me until your graduation to sell the house," and she definitely hadn't been thinking about this on a whim. She'd been planning for it. "I know you already have a place here, and I don't want you to feel chained to me after you graduate. But I'd like you to stay with me, at least until then."

 

All she was asking Akira for was a few more months, and the chance to be a part of his life in Tokyo, where he always knew he'd end up. He didn't have to consider it long before he nodded.

 

 

 

After seeing his mother off the next morning, Akira wondered how he should tell everyone about the development. He was finally alone with all of them strewn around the attic, on his bed, the couch, the spare futons, talking about the summer festival and other plans for the future.

 

He decided to be straight forward about it. "I'd like to move back here after graduation."

 

Futaba immediately rolled her eyes. "Sojiro already  _said_  the attic is yours for when you come home, why are you saying that like a request? He'd move you into the house if you'd let him!"

 

Akira chose not to be put out by the lack of surprise at his declaration. "What? Since when has that been on the table?"

 

"Since he started thinking of you as his son?" Futaba shot back, matter of fact.

 

While Akira tried to handle hearing that said aloud, Shiho cleared her throat from next to him. "I'll actually be moving back to Tokyo after graduation, too."

 

Ryuji sat up quickly. "Wait, for real!? You'll come back here for good?" He almost sounded like he was pleading, while Ann started to squeal.

 

"No excitement for me?" Akira felt childish, but petulant none the less.

 

“We weren’t worried about _you_ coming back.”

 

Shiho turned to him and grinned, holding out her fist. "We just have to hold out for a few more months until we're home, yeah? I'll deal better knowing you'll be just as impatient as I am."

 

Akira quickly accepted that he couldn't really hold anything against Shiho, pressing his fist to hers. "Yeah. Just a few more months."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof! what a battle getting this one out. thank you for being patient and leaving me kind encouragement in the mean time.
> 
> the epilogue was initially going to be a part of this chapter, but i already went 2k over my intended word count! i can barely write 2k in one sitting as it is! and even though it will be shorter, i think it's worth having its own space from this chapter anyhow. the epilogue won't take me long at all, definitely not as long as this chapter did.
> 
> thank you so much for sticking with me and encouraging me to crank this out.
> 
> watch me retweet pics of akira all day on twitter ([@yyormgen](https://twitter.com/yyormgen)) or check out my fan art on tumblr ([@tolbyccia](http://tolbyccia.tumblr.com/))!


	4. Back Where I Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

It was cold for March.

 

Akira hadn't dressed particularly heavy, two layers sufficient for a day spent inside a train. The outside chill wasn't bothering him either, but he figured he could go for a hot cup of coffee, anyway.

 

 

 

 **Ann** : today!!! 

 

 **Futaba** : ?

 

 **Yusuke** : How rare, for the star-crossed to receive such a happy ending. I can hardly wait.

 

 **Futaba** : ?????

 

 **Makoto** : Akira, how are your travels?

 

 **Akira** : Just got off at Yongen, actually.

 

 **Ryuji** : hey i thought u werent getting in until tonite?

 

 **Futaba** : wait

 

 **Akira** : I caught an earlier train. I was impatient.

 

 **Futaba** : hold the fuck up, was that TODAY

 

 **Akira** : You forgot?

 

 **Futaba** : SHUT UP IM IN AKIHABARA RN!!! I THOUGHT IT WAS TOMORROW

 

 **Ann** : no, Shiho gets in tomorrow! Akira's back today!

 

 **Futaba** : I HATE THIS IM NEVER LEAVING THE HOUSE AGAIN

 

 **Ryuji** : well im in shibuya w mako and ann so we are def gonna beat u there

 

 **Haru** : I'll go pick up Yusuke! We shouldn't be long.

 

 **Yusuke** : Ah, thank you. 

 

 **Futaba** : I HATE THIS ヽ(｀Д´)ノ

 

 

 

 

Reaching into the duffle slung over his shoulder, Akira pulled out a paper bag and placed it on the bar, nodding for Sojiro to look inside.

 

"I don't think you're supposed to be the one handing out gifts after your own graduation," Sojiro sighed, pulling out the white mug. He shook his head at the "#1 Dad" printed on the front, but went to the sink to clean it anyway. Akira was pretty sure he saw a grin before Sojiro's back was to him.

 

He sat his duffle on the ground, letting Morgana tumble out and up the stairs to burn energy. Morgana slept most of the ride, but being squeezed in a tight space for hours would make anyone antsy, he figured. "Are you saying you have a graduation gift for me?"

 

"Spoiled brat," Sojiro huffed. "Your room and board  _is_  your graduation gift."

 

Akira couldn't argue with that.

 

Sojiro set the mug on top of the fridge, next to Futaba's. "Where's your mother?"

 

"She's going to tour an apartment by Aoyama today. I think she really likes the idea of busy city life."

 

Sojiro snorted. "You didn't get that from her then, huh?"

 

Akira smiled. "I like the city just fine. I live here!"

 

"You like  _who's_  in the city."

 

"Same thing."

 

Sojiro shuffled into the kitchen, digging out a pot. "Whatever. The other's will start pouring in pretty soon, right?" He looked to Akira and allowed himself that small grin he gave whenever he was feeling smug and generous. "I'll handle dinner tonight, but that's your job again starting tomorrow. Go upstairs and relax while you can."

 

It had been a long ride, getting to this point, Akira thought. Their relationship was so frigid when he'd first arrived almost two years ago, Sojiro's newest burden, only to speak when spoken to. Something about meeting his friends had been the first chip in Sojiro's ice, he had a weakness for troubled kids and a fondness for earnest ones, and Akira's friends had no shortage of those traits. The entire ordeal with Futaba thawed Sojiro out like the summer sun, and Akira hadn't wasted his chance to return the warmth when he could.

 

Somehow, that warmth had accumulated into something more personal, more paternal than just an accommodating caretaker. According to Futaba, the constant teasing, stubborn gestures, welcome company, all really had cemented Akira as something like a son to Sojiro. He hadn't argued much to Akira's choice to stay at Leblanc instead of imposing on the Sakura household, but he had insisted on Akira holding on to a spare key to the house anyway. The implication hadn't been lost on either of them.

 

Akira wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel towards a father, but he didn’t mind whatever he and Sojiro had going. It was comfortable, familiar, safe.

 

"Thanks, dad," he said, testing the waters.

 

"Ugh," Sojiro's smile fell instantly, as expected, and dropped into a scowl when Akira grinned back. "I can't get used to that from you."

 

"You hate it?"

 

Sojiro looked back to the pot, grumbling under his breath, and didn't answer.

 

 

 

"Hey," Morgana started, as soon as Akira stepped into the attic. "We should go shopping later!"

 

Akira sat down on his bed and stretched. "What for?"

 

Morgana jumped up next to him, and looked at the empty shelf space Akira had once squeezed that ridiculously large cardboard box into. "A wardrobe, or a dresser at least. Now that we're here for good, you should at least have a real place for your clothes."

 

"I can ship the dresser from my old room." Distantly, Akira thought about whether he'd ever see that room again. He'd stripped it of everything he owned this time, leaving empty furniture and a barren mattress. 

 

Trying to think of his childhood bedroom nostalgically had never really worked for him. Beyond being the place where he slept, he'd never formed an attachment to it like he had Leblanc's attic.

 

"Well," Morgana continued, stepping over Akira's legs to examine his pillow. "You could also buy me a new cat bed."

 

"No way. My mom bought you one and you never used it, you'll just crawl into my bed anyway."

 

"Your cushions were softer than mine!" Morgana was unashamed, and settled onto Akira's pillow as if to prove it.

 

Akira figured he could buy Morgana a whole mattress of his own, and would still wake up with a cat sleeping on his chest. Maybe he'd try buying Morgana his own pillows, at least.

 

"We should redecorate, though. Put the stars back on the rafters, hang your posters and stuff. We should buy a rug too, since it's still cold in the morning... Oh!" Morgana scrambled off the bed and towards the space heater running in the center of the room. "We could buy a kotatsu for next winter! Akira! Let’s buy a kotatsu!"

 

Leaning back into the bed, Akira closed his eyes and let Morgana's voice wash over him. The attic wasn't dusty smelling anymore, but his sheets still smelled like coffee, the air still smelled like curry.

 

He heard Leblanc's welcome bell and familiar chatter, heard the stairs creak under the weight of several pairs of feet on their way up, heard his name being called.

 

Keeping his eyes shut for a few more moments to take in the sweet sounds and smells and warmth, he tried to gather the energy for the rest of the evening, and what he hoped the rest of his life would feel like. He finally felt at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we go... i've finished my affair with multichapter fic and can go back to my one true love, kitschy one-shots about these kids hanging out and flirting hopelessly with each other... at last...
> 
> thank you so much for reading this through and giving me your encouragement and enthusiasm to see it through! i had absolutely no clue what to expect when i started posting this, no idea what kind of handle i'd have on _feelings_ or writing what was essentially an oc into a fanfic... every comment about liking akira's mother or liking my attempt at volatile talks are all going to be stored in my heart forever. thank you again.
> 
> i also realized i made a little goof about the japanese academic calendar, and no one called me out, but i went back and fixed it anyway.
> 
> watch me retweet pics of akira all day on twitter ([@yyormgen](https://twitter.com/yyormgen)) or laugh at my brooklyn99/p5 shitpost on tumblr ([@tolbyccia](http://tolbyccia.tumblr.com/))!

**Author's Note:**

> so i've never been more scared to post a thing in my life, i'd say! i don't know why this one makes me so nervous! maybe because it feels a little personal. thank you to every writer who slipped a biracial akira headcanon into my life, you saved and stole my heart, specifically.
> 
> i'm predicting that this will be three chapters, based on the outline I've got. i debated splitting this one in half, but to most writers and readers stronger than me, 4k words isn't too terribly much in one sitting. if it was, thank you for pulling through it for me!
> 
> next chapter will be about golden week, and akira will have a better time with the people he misses. i want to say a week to finish the next chapter, but i don't want to lie to you either while i'm focusing on my classes... if you're willing, please continue to be patient with me. thanks so much for reading my work and talking to me about it.
> 
> talk to me on twitter ([@yyormgen](https://twitter.com/yyormgen)) or check out my other work on tumblr ([@tolbyccia](http://tolbyccia.tumblr.com/)).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Liminal Places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363836) by [MirrorMystic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic)




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